


Lazy Day

by mary_sued



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Female Reader, I say insert bc you can just swap her name for yours, Multi, Named Reader, sorry about that, very short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 23:03:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11278599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mary_sued/pseuds/mary_sued
Summary: Wren and Roadhog share a moment while Junkrat has a rare nap.





	Lazy Day

**Author's Note:**

> Kiss the Hog

They were having what she had come to recognise as a lazy day. The boys pulled over at an abandoned shell of a house yesterday with enough of a structure to hide the bike. But after a particularly quiet night the two made no signs of heading back onto the road. Wren was still in the sidecar, having shoved the least foul smelling couch cushion into it and curled into a ball to sleep. Rat never came back to curl around her like he would on the road and she fell asleep to his tinkering and ever-muttering voice. His volatile workspace moved from the side car to the dining table. When Wren woke up he was still sitting there, slumped over and snoring against what looked to be the beginnings of a pipe bomb. The table around him bore deep scratches and scorch marks, a testament to his work.

A muted sigh made her glance over at the couch she purloined her bedding from. Roadhog's hulking form took up most of it and he hadn’t noticed her yet. She climbed carefully out of the sidecar, easing the wedged cushion back out from the bottom, and, forgoing her boots, padded over to him. She drops the cushion in the empty spot beside him and waves. He nods at her in greeting. They both know how little Rat sleeps and the aim is to let him get as much as he can. Hogs’ hook is leaned against his leg, the chain pooled in his lap and he seemed to be cleaning it. It’s a good thing she got up when she did because the gentle clinking of the chain would have sent her right back to sleep. Instead she peers over at his other weapons, only approaching them when he pauses in his cleaning to move the hook out of the way. His scrap gun is already clean, a few rocks and one bent screw next to it.

‘Jammed.’

The quiet rasp makes her jump and she glances at him questioningly, but it’s the only explanation he provides. There’s a pause in Jamie’s snoring that makes them both freeze and when it resumes she can’t bring herself to speak. She huffs and goes back to her inspection, eyes falling on a set of vicious looking knives. Where could he even hold onto these? They range from the length of her hand to the length of her thigh and she finds it much easier to touch these than the gun. She picks up the smallest, surprised to find the handle much heavier than the base. She looks back to Hog and holds it up. He mimes throwing and she stifles a laugh. It’s so small compared to his hands, but she has no doubt he could use them with frightening accuracy.

He interrupts her musings by pushing a cloth into her face. She glares at him but takes it anyway and settles down next to him to polish. It’s the length of her forearm and made of one piece of metal, sloped inward at the handle and deadly sharp. She loses herself in the repetitive motion with Jamie’s snoring and Hogs humming as soothing background noise. She curls her fingers around the grip almost without thinking and it fits in her palm like it was made for her. Halfway through polishing it the humming stops and she looks up to see Hog watching her. The chain has been wound and set aside and he’s pulled his mask up enough to uncover his mouth. She can see the short gold tusks that push at his upper lip and some uneven grey stubble. Now he’s … staring. It’s hard to tell where his eyes are looking with the mask but she’s pretty sure it’s at her face and it heats up. She mouths ‘what’ at him, searching for a reaction and he huffs in quiet amusement before darting forward to press his mouth to hers.

She jumps at first and he starts to laugh before she pushes into him. He smells like sweat and the lingering mouldy smell of the couch. She’s no better and she doesn’t mind. Judging by his hand guiding her to tilt her head further, neither does he. It’s warm, and dry, and over quickly. Their chapped lips stick to each other as they part.

She turns back to Hog sharply and brings up the knife. She can’t tell, but he seems to be contemplating where she’s going to put it when she speaks.

‘I like your knife, I’m keeping it.’

He’s still and silent for a moment before chuckling. Without the voice modifier in his mask she can hear how deep and gravelly his voice is and she’s already blushing.

‘That was my favourite knife.’ She can hear the smile in his voice and grins in victory.

‘Well, I’ve claimed it for myself and there’s nothing you can do about it.’

It’s a ridiculous statement to make, as though this behemoth of a man would have any trouble snapping her like a twig, and it must tickle him because he’s letting loose a deep belly-laugh that startles Jamison awake at his table. The sight of Rat with red indents in his forehead and flat hair on one side looking around for some threat breaks her and she’s cackling right along with Hog.

‘Oi, mind letting a bloke in on the laugh?’ He’s trying to be offended but the sight of the pair having such a good time together brings a smile to his face.


End file.
